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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458704">Lantern Light</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyris/pseuds/fyris'>fyris</a>, <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseWhiskers/pseuds/GooseWhiskers'>GooseWhiskers</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Silver Linings [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Fallout (Video Games), Fallout 4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Feel-good, Fluff, Gen, Light Hurt/Comfort, Light Tension, Light Whump, M/M, Synth Sole Survivor, Two people who are very in love and also soft, Wholesome, fallout 4tober, frankencanon, railroad</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:21:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,472</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27458704</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fyris/pseuds/fyris, https://archiveofourown.org/users/GooseWhiskers/pseuds/GooseWhiskers</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Mal and Nate, two synths with only the memories of the people they replaced, shelter at Ticonderoga after a difficult Railroad Operation. There's no knowing what the future holds, but they're glad to have each other.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>OC/OC, Sole Survivor/Sole Survivor (Fallout)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Silver Linings [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2006170</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Lantern Light</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A collaboration for Day 3 of Fallout 4tober on tumblr</p><p>Mal and Nate both believed themselves to be the sosus of their vaults, only to discover while trapped in a vault-like experimental prison that they were actually Institute synths carrying the memories of two prewar survivors, one a disillusioned low-profile scavver, the other the Minuteman General known to be antagonistic to the Institute. Together, they seek answers about their past, and find a future.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ticonderoga safehouse, a spectre in plain sight. One of the few havens left still rooted. They’d be secure here. At least until someone got caught. Interrogated. Replaced. And an army of synths showed up at the door spewing lasers and destruction. </p><p>The high rise stood resolute on the edge of Cambridge, framed in the silhouette of Boston who’s shadow seemed to reach out like a claw. Nate found himself looking over his shoulder as they arrived, over and over, compulsive. It would only take one slip. At least the birds couldn’t follow them by moonlight. </p><p>Mal - <em>Jackdaw</em> tonight - followed behind, their package between them. She was frightened, dirty, exhausted. Ready for a place to sleep. And Nate could only guess at what it meant, to have lived inside the Institute’s walls and deem this struggle worth the risk for freedom. They might share a maker, but he at least had no memories of being anything other than a replacement.</p><p> </p><p>Nate favored the stairs. Fourteen stories, with rubble and broken portions that had to be navigated around. His legs ached from a night spent running, hiding, pressed into corners like rats in a desperate bid for escape. And now this. But it was still better than being trapped in an elevator with no room to react if anything went wrong. </p><p>Mal stayed quiet as they climbed. The only sound was their labored breathing, the crunch of debris and broken glass underfoot, and the creak and groan of the building itself. He tuned it out, focusing instead for anything out of place.</p><p>They made it most of the way without incident, although the 'package' was looking increasingly worse for the wear by that point. Whatever purpose she'd been made to serve at the Institute, running and ducking for cover then climbing up half a miles worth of stairs clearly wasn't it.</p><p>Mal sympathized.</p><p>But when she actually <em>swayed</em>, for a second looking in danger of losing her footing, Mal braced a steadying hand against her shoulder blade. "Almost there," he murmured. The first thing he'd spoken since making the initial pickup.</p><p>She tensed, head jerking like she'd started to look back at him before thinking better of it. Mal swallowed the impulse to apologize, and let his hand fall away once she regained her balance.</p><p>Nate <em>did</em> turn though, at least to catch the end of the exchange. His attentive gaze swept over their charge, soaked with concern, and then flicked to Mal. Checking him, too. More attentive appraisal would have to wait until they could rest.</p><p>Only a few more flights to go.</p><p>The last legs of their trip passed in weary silence, until they reached an old sliding door at the top of the stairs where light bled faintly through. Nate held an ear to the seam, motioning the others to wait. Then knocked.</p><p>Smiley answered, lips carved downward. “Do you have a Geiger counter?”</p><p>“Mine’s in the shop.” Nate said.</p><p>“You’re late.”</p><p>“Ran into some trouble on the road.” Nate spread his arms to show the stains of brown and red smeared over his clothes. </p><p>“Is the package safe?” Smiley slid the door open a little further, letting light cascade into the dark hallway.</p><p>Nate stepped to the side to allow her her own assessment. </p><p>The synth they were escorting stepped forward tentatively, visibly exhausted and unsure, but otherwise unharmed save for a few scrapes and bruises. All things considered, they'd gotten off easy.</p><p>Smiley didn't look any more pleased by that than she had by anything so far, but she waved them inside with a terse, "Fine." Her eyes looked them over again, lingering briefly on the bloodstains, before jerking a thumb towards the ruins of a kitchenette inside. "There's a first aid kit on the counter. Bedrolls in the back, if you're staying the night."</p><p>Mal nodded, and followed her into what looked like the living room of an old apartment. Still in a moderate state of disrepair, but cleaned up enough to habitable. By wasteland standards, at least. Warm lantern light filled the room, probably the most welcoming thing about it.</p><p>Nate pursued a little after, offering a tired, still warm smile to their charge before trailing in Mal’s shadow. No need to be so quiet now, but his nerves didn’t adapt as quickly.</p><p>Smiley all but dismissed them after checking and locking the door, already focusing her attention on the runaway, eyes softening a fraction as she held out a beckoning hand to her. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up. Get you something to drink. You're safe for now, at least."</p><p>Nate knew there were other apartments in Ticonderoga, and possibly other packages between stops. These days, it was harder to find an empty safehouse than a full one. Another reason to be cautious. </p><p>But for now, at least, they were out of danger. Setting back off into the night held little appeal by comparison.</p><p>He brushed up alongside Mal, tilting his head gently to murmur, “How you holding up?” </p><p>Mal leaned into the touch, just a little. "I'm alright." Brushed a hand across the back of one of Nate's. "Just need to catch my breath."</p><p>Now that they'd stopped, weariness hit Mal full force. A dozen little aches and pains started to filter through the background noise. He shifted, giving Nate a more serious look over. One that lingered on the dubious stains smeared across Nate's clothes. "What about <em>you</em>?"</p><p>A breath. Slow and stilted, but deep. “Bruises and scrapes. Nothing serious.” The worst thing he felt right now was tired. It often came like this, a weariness that hit hard once a conflict ended, and you could finally assess the damage. “Probably worth taking a look at, though.” Nate added on. More for Mal’s sake - permission to check, and an invitation to help. Not an offer that came instinctively to Nate, but he’d learned to appreciate its benefits. And if he was being fair, he’d rather get a look at Mal too with his own eyes, just to be safe.</p><p>Mal nodded. "Yeah." The hand he'd brushed against Nate's curled closer, so Mal could pet his thumb across the back of Nate's fingers. He traced a few gentle whorls before letting go again. "We could ah, probably head to the back room now. Take care of that. Maybe rest a bit."</p><p>His hand felt cold in the absence of Mal’s touch, and Nate wished they’d held on a little longer, even bearing no bitterness for the retreat. He clung to the lingering sensation of gentle strokes, and nodded back. </p><p>“Yeah. …Wonder how the room service is, here.” It was a tone that hinted at playfulness, but exhaustion was plain in Nate’s voice. </p><p>Mal offered a weary chuckle. "Well, I guess we'll find out."</p><p>He bumped his shoulder lightly against Nate's before heading off down the only hallway leading to the back. The room Smiley had mentioned was easy enough to find, because it was the only other one besides a cramped, dubiously functional bathroom. Mal hesitated in the doorway, peeking inside.</p><p>There were a few bedrolls laid out in rows along one wall. A mattress shoved against the opposite. But other than a rickety looking dresser, a bookcase with no books, and the stained remnants of what used to be carpet, the room was bare.</p><p>A single, unlit lantern rested on the dresser top, and Mal reached into his coat pocket without a second thought, pulling out a lighter. He didn't smoke much these days, but it still came in handy often enough to carry it.</p><p>"Nice room," Mal commented, wryly. With a casual flourish and flick of the lighter, he got the wick on the lantern burning. Warm, amber light spilled over the room, pushing back the worst of the gloom. "I think I might be a bit underdressed for this place, though."</p><p>Nate checked behind them as they walked in, then the corners, then the window - boarded up and opaque. “That just makes it more fun.” </p><p>His eyes were drawn to the lantern as its dim offering blanketed Mal. This bolthole wasn’t exactly glowing. But it had a cozy feel to it. He smiled, crossing over to stand beside Mal and brush a hand down his back. “Trying to woo me?”</p><p>Humming, Mal let his head rest against Nate's shoulder. Just for a second. He was half afraid to close his eyes, even standing up like this.</p><p>"Is it working?"</p><p>Nate chuckled softly, leaning a bruised cheek into Mal’s hair. Any other night, he’d be impossible to resist. “Ask me again in the morning.”</p><p>The next thing out of Mal's mouth was a yawn. He reached up and rubbed a hand across his face, then on up into his hair, pushing it back. He glanced to Nate, focus returning to the original plan. "Guess we should get cleaned up..."</p><p>“Let me give you a once over, too, at least.” Nate petitioned. Just to make sure. He unshouldered his pack. “I brought a change of clothes And a clean blanket if we don’t get that far.”</p><p>"Yeah." Mal nodded. "You too."</p><p>Now that they had a moment alone it was easier to actually <em>look </em>at Nate. The smudge of a bruise across one cheek. Other small scrapes and hurts, but Mal was almost sure now that Nate was being truthful. That he wouldn't find any ugly surprises waiting for him underneath the layers.</p><p>But he also knew Nate needed to see the same from him.</p><p>Mal worked as quickly as he could, not bothering with subtlety or teasing or even stopping to give a shit whether or not anyone might walk in on them. He stripped out of his clothes and kicked his boots aside, then stood somewhat-less-happily at the center of the room, arms crossed and naked except for underwear and socks.</p><p>"See? Still in one piece." Mal reconsidered, stifling a surge of overtired amusement as the truth of that statement sank in. "Well...uh. Close enough. Still have all the bits I had this morning, at least."</p><p>Smirking, Nate inspected him, stepping forward and making a circle with a thoughtful hum. There was little serious about the approach, though Nate’s keen eyes did mark each splotch and stain. Mal looked awfully cold without anything on. </p><p>Reaching out to stroke a mess of red hair back, Nate frowned, “I dunno, Jackdaw. This poor ear could just fall off any minute.”</p><p>The sound Mal let out was something like a scoff. He flicked away the offending hand with casual affection. "Yeah yeah, <em>alright</em>." Mal took a calculated step back, before temptation could get the better of him. "Now it's your turn—<em>strip</em>. Before I start growing moss or my ears rot off or something."</p><p>He got a snicker in response. For a moment Nate stood swept up in it, in the realization of being <em>here</em> with <em>Mal</em>. After a risk like tonight, Nate found the familiar revelation all the more striking. Their ties were a culmination of so many things inconceivable, impossible to imagine, not so very long ago. Still time-honored enough to know he could never have regrets. Whatever risks, sacrifices, victories, or moments of peace the future held - he wanted them with Mal. </p><p>A sigh, tired but content. Nate shed his tasseled jacket and the vest beneath. He folded each loosely with methodical ease before dropping them to the floor beside Mal’s pile. Boots off. Belt off. Suspenders. Slacks. Winced a little at the persistence of a bruise, but didn’t stop until his shirt was undone and he stood bare before Mal in kind. “Think I’ll live?”</p><p>Attentive but quiet, Mal watched Nate shed his layers. Any other time, he might've 'helped', but tonight was a little too late and a little too long for those kinds of shenanigans.</p><p>At least by the time Nate finished, it was easy enough to see he hadn't fared much worse. Mal reached out and ran a hand over one shoulder, down Nate's upper arm as he completed his circle and came to stop in front of him. He let go, although not without hesitation.</p><p>"Hmm—I <em>suppose </em>you'll pull through." A tired smile tugged Mal's lip. "But ah, I think you're gonna need some bedrest to heal up. Doctor's orders."</p><p>“Well if you insist, <em>Doctor.</em>” Nate sighed, smiling back. His gaze drifted to the open door. The sound of quiet voices drifted through. After tonight they might never see that synth again, she’d be out of their reach. And the Institute’s. </p><p>Then Nate bent to pick up his clothes, carrying them to the backpack on top of the bookshelf, where he laid them beside. From the pack, he pulled out softer, worn articles and a mostly-intact blanket. “Pajamas?”</p><p>"Thanks," Mal said, yawning again and reaching out to take the offered clothes. The gesture stirred another wave of affection. <em>Pajamas</em>. They were running dangerous ops and fighting for their lives and Nate still thought to pack them pajamas for the trip.</p><p>With a soft chuckle, Mal ran a thumb over the worn fabric. "Got our toothbrushes in there too? Maybe some late night snacks for the slumber party?"</p><p>“Of course.” Nate answered, aware of the joke - but honest nonetheless. He tilted the bag just-so, showing the newspaper-wrapped travel food, grinned, “There’s some jerky in here if you’re hungry.”</p><p>Fondly, Mal shook his head. "Why am I even surprised?" He pet a hand over the clothes, then shook them out and started to dress. "Honestly? I think I'm ready for a nap. We can ah, save that for breakfast."</p><p>“Y’know, that sounds pretty good to me.”</p><p>Glancing to the various bedding options, Mal shrugged. "Since you're the picky one, I'll let you figure out where you wanna sleep, too."</p><p>Shuffling into his own pjs, Nate glanced over the dubiously clean bedrolls spread around. Better than a lot of other places, to be sure. But some prewar part of him would never stop missing a clean bed that still smelled of dryer sheets on nights like these. </p><p>Blanket under arm, he made his way to the far corner, tucked a little out of sight and close to the lantern. “Think this looks cozy?”</p><p>Mal stared after Nate for a long, quiet moment. Thoughtful, even though the haze of exhaustion. Stepping forward, Mal wrapped his arms around Nate, pulled him into a hug, and buried his face against Nate's neck.</p><p>"Yeah," Mal mumbled, breathing in slow and deep. "This is perfect."</p><p>Brow furrowed, Nate shut his eyes and leaned into the embrace. He managed half a chuckle, too tired to have much agency over his emotions. Pressing a kiss to the mess of Mal’s hair, Nate stroked down his back slowly and let the simple comfort wash over them both. “Love you, Feathers.”</p><p>Mal hummed. "Love you too."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thanks so much for reading!<br/>You can follow <a href="https://saltsealed.tumblr.com/">Fyris</a> and <a href="https://lookbluesoup.tumblr.com/">me</a> on tumblr, search our <a href="https://lookbluesoup.tumblr.com/tagged/silver-linings">Silver Linings</a> ship tag :D</p><p>Also on <a href="https://www.pillowfort.social/posts/1859500">Pillowfort! We’ll be uploading lots of other stuff there surrounding their various AUs!</a></p></blockquote></div></div>
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